Page 82 of The Viking’s Captive

He stared at her for a long moment, anger and sadness warring on his face. Then he turned and walked away.

Tyra should have been happy to know that she had just escaped what might have been the biggest mistake of her life. Why, then, were tears streaming down her face?

Strange bedfellows …

Adam tossed and turned for many hours. ‘Twas not the way he had expected to spend his night.

He lay restless in his comfortable alcove bed while Rashid snored away on the other side of the central hearth where a low fire burned. If Rashid had his way, the fire would be roaring. As it was, Rashid was buried under three bed furs … two of his and one of Adam’s.

How could so many things go wrong with his life? How could so many things go wrong between him and Tyra? How could he have come to care so much in such a short time?

He was not entirely to blame, either. Really, if Tyra thought things through, she would have to admit that there was no place for a babe in a soldiering life.

And why were they even discussing a babe betwixt them anyhow? It would probably never happen. Especially since it appeared he would never have the opportunity to do the deed that might produce a babe. Why look for trouble when there was plenty to be found at hand?

The most contradictory thing of all was the way Adam’s heart felt, as if a fist were clenching it. He couldn’t stop picturing the babe he and Tyra might produce. The child would be tall, of course, and blue-eyed. It could have black hair or blond. Either way, any person formed of the two of them was sure to be comely.

I do not care. I do not care. I do not care. ‘Tis best that it ended afore it began.

But what if…?

Once Adam finally started to drift off to sleep, he felt someone slide under the bed furs beside him. At first he thought it might be Tyra … come to ask his forgiveness. Hah! It was Kristin, the little imp, staring at him through big blue eyes, with her thumb planted inside her rosebud lips.

“Why are you here, Kristin?” he growled, or attempted to growl. ‘Twas hard to be gruff when he was adjusting the wee mite to fit into the cradle of his arms—just like Adela—and brushing loose strands of hair off her face.

“I had a bad dream,” Kristin revealed. A big fat tear ran down her little face.

“Shhh, ‘twas just a dream.”

“Alrek went away agin. And you went, too. I wuz all alone, and I wuz scared. In my dream.” That was a mouthful of words for Kristin. Actually, what she described was not some horrible nightmare; it was reality. Alrek would go off a-Viking again. And Adam most definitely would be leaving before long.

No sooner did the words leave her mouth than Kristin fell asleep. ‘Twas the way of children to go from chatter to slumber in the blink of an eye.

When he awakened groggily at dawn, it was to find not just Kristin in the cradle of his arms, but Besji asleep at the foot of the bed, and Tunni on the floor at his side. Alrek was standing at the hearth, trying to stoke what was already a blazing bonfire.

As he stumbled out of bed to prevent Alrek from setting himself afire, trying not to awaken the other children in the process, he made himself a promise.

Today is the day I take back control of my life. Today is the day I make arrangements to leave Stoneheim.

The blabber mouth blabbed …

“Did you bring extra horseradish sauce for the venison steak?” The king licked his lips hungrily as he addressed Alrek, who was carrying a huge, cloth-covered tray into his bedchamber.

“Yea, I did, but I had to hide out in the corridor ever so long afore Father Efrid left yer room to go say matins.” Alrek couldn’t see why the king didn’t just get up out of bed and eat in the hall like everyone else. But who was he to question the secrecy that his master required? After he set the tray on the mattress, Alrek went back to lock the door.

“Did you have any trouble getting the food?” the king asked even as he dug into the morning repast and waved for Alrek to join him.

“A little,” Alrek said, biting into a delicious honey oatcake. In truth, he was eating better than he ever had, since the king had taken him into his confidence. “In-grith wanted to know where I thought I was going with all these pilfered goods, and I told her it wuz fer Master Adam.”

“Good thinking, boy. Did it satisfy her?”

Alrek shrugged. “Seemed to. She added the honey cakes for him, special like.”

“By thunder! I hope she’s not setting her cap for him, too.”

“I don’t think so. To tell you true, all the ladies seem to be conspiring in some way … Ingrith, Breanne, Vana, Drifa, not to mention the Lady Alinor. Methinks they have some plot goin’ to match up the Master Adam with the Lady Tyra.”

“Hah! Just like a brood of mush-brained females! Plots and secret doings. As if that would do them any good!”